


Mr. Wooster's Rosy Reflection

by godsdaisiechain (preux)



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Coming Out, Competent!Bertie, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Realization, Spinoza, envy - Freeform, frisky Bertie, innocent!Jeeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeeves dwells on his own ambition and envy.  He returns home to make a startling discovery, then becomes embarrassingly tongue-tied.  First time. Jeeves POV.</p><p>For the fan_flashworks 'Double' challenge (Amnesty 6)</p><p>Warnings: Jeeves and Bertie are quite, quite naughty. Bertie is more bedroom competent than one might imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Wooster's Rosy Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> Those who are believed to be most abject and humble are usually most ambitious and envious. – Baruch Spinoza

The position of gentleman’s personal gentleman is one of a certain standing and usually I felt my good luck in attaining such a post.  Unlike many of my friends, I served a man of whom I was genuinely fond. Mr. Wooster was a kind, generous and handsome gentleman with golden hair, a ready smile, and almost limitless wealth. His manner about ‘the home,’ as he termed it, was genial and friendly, and he enjoyed chatting.

Some in my position might have found Mr. Wooster's conversation tedious as he was somewhat mentally negligible, but his open admiration for my ideas held considerable charm and he is, in fact, rather more intelligent than I would at first have credited.  I found him easy to manipulate when the situation called for it, and if his sartorial choices were sometimes offensive and embarrassing, I had in them a means of mitigating the envy of my peers, who delighted in teasing me about my master’s pink ties, ridiculous hats, and purple socks. Mr. Wooster's friends and relations also consulted me, which represented a steady stream of additional income and favors.  I knew that I would never be long without work even if I had to leave my current employment. In all, my situation was an enviable one.

Yet, the words of Spinoza haunted me as I made my way home one free evening. I am respected and admired by many, and one would think that there was no reason for me to harbor ambition and envy.  Yet I did.  I envied the people who praised my ‘feudal spirit.’  I envied their education and freedom.  I envied the affection of their mates, affections I had never been able to attach.

In this I was like my master, for although I had described him as one of nature’s bachelors, this had merely been a ploy to divert the attentions of young women I knew did not love him. I had never seen any evidence that Mr. Wooster sought the affections of other men, even after what he termed his “bohemian revels.” My friends at the Junior Ganymede club often had occasion to complain about the sexual exploits and proclivities of their masters—the disheveled clothes and  disgusting smells and soiled linens, or even worse, the unwelcome necessity of serving both the master and his lover after an evening of revelry.  Mr. Wooster had never distressed me with such a request, and even seemed quite innocently aloof to the effect his flamboyant dress seemed to have on other men.  Including me, but then I had never registered their effect on myself.  I wonder now how blind I was in those days, how little I saw my discontent and envy for what it really was. 

***** 

A highly attractive waitress named Mabel had become the first person to suggest that I might be confused about my interest in women.  After extricating her from the attentions of Mr. Wooster’s friend Bingo Little, I had taken the young lady to a cinematic entertainment and saw her home, as a gentleman should. She had been tolerably encouraging and I took advantage of the opportunity to give her a goodnight kiss. The extension of her tongue from between her lips took me by surprise, but I endeavored not to appear chagrined.

“A looker like you must know what to do when a girl wants more, Reggie,” she said laughingly, gripping my arm. “There’s no need to be shy…unless you’re one of those permanent bachelors.” The heart froze in my chest. I had followed my uncle’s advice and kept aloof from sexual entanglements with the other below stairs staff, but I had never wondered why I found it so easy. Indeed, I had no idea what ‘more’ a girl like Mabel might actually want from a ‘looker’ such as myself. 

I extricated myself by claiming that Mr. Wooster would be angry if I was out too late. Mabel had some sharp things to say about my master's refusal to eat at her work establishment. I managed not to laugh at the mental image of Mr. Wooster sitting at a table with a small pool of cold coffee on it, attempting to eat a macaroon or drink a fizzy soft drink.  I found such surroundings congenial, but Mr. Wooster was unused to anything so bourgeois. Something misgave me in that moment.  Mr. Wooster had very little tolerance for so many of the things that made up my world. I did not recognize why this separation of our worlds would upset me. Perhaps I should have.  

****

I reached Mr. Wooster’s flat several hours before he should have returned.  Mr. Jarvis, the doorman met me, looking concerned. “It’s the third week this month he’s come home early on your free night,” he said. “I hope he does not give out to you for being after your time.  He commented on it.”

Thanking Mr. Jarvis gravely, I proceeded upstairs and entered the flat.  Mr. Wooster’s voice, sounding rough and harsh, pronounced my name.  I shed my coat and entered the bedroom, my heart heavy in my breast.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight that met me. I had never seen anything like it. Mr. Wooster, clad only in his open dressing gown, stood before his mirror, pleasuring himself and saying my name.  His face and body had flushed pink with excitement, and I felt my member stiffen almost painfully in my trousers when I took in his own erection, weeping from its ruddy tip.  A gasp flew from my startled lips. 

Mr. Wooster’s demeanour changed profoundly and immediately.  He went white from head to foot, and his member drooped pathetically as his mouth fell open.  Without thinking, I moved to close his dressing gown, holding him at the waist with one hand. Before I could move to tie his belt, he grasped my wrist.  “I’m so sorry.”  A thought assailed him. “Please, Jeeves, please don’t put this in the book,” he whispered, white-lipped and trembling.

I shook my head, unable to speak and he said ‘please,’ again.  I met his blue eyes and opened my mouth.

“I love you.” 

The words stunned both of us into silence. 

****

Mr. Wooster recovered first.  His mouth had fallen open slightly, but he flushed and his eyes went dark.  He looked a veritable god of passion and desire. Unable to move or break his gaze, I trembled.

Slowly and carefully, he released my wrist and touched my face, then threaded his soft, warm fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck. “Whatsit, Jeeves?” he murmured.

“I love you,” I said again, the words almost a wimper in the back of my throat.  He stepped closer, lifting his mouth toward me.  I closed my eyes and leaned in until our lips met, unsure which of us was making the sighing moan that sounded in my ears.  He nuzzled my mouth softly, then, as I began to relax, slipped his tongue between my lips, and pressed his body firmly against me so that I could feel his erection pressing against mine.  No chagrin tainted the contact. I liked this.  I liked it very much.

Gently, he teased me until I began to grow inflamed. A sort of feral growl escaped me as we plundered each others’ mouths. The tastes of tobacco and brandy and something else that must have been my master washed over me.  He wrapped an arm about my waist and caressed  my head while we kissed, and when I pulled away, rubbed the back of my neck as I leaned against him, gasping.  His nose found mine, and I felt him nuzzle my face gently as I caught my breath. 

“What do you want?” he murmured. 

My mind rioted. I wanted everything.  I wanted to open my body and place him inside of me.  I wanted to be inside of him, and to never leave him again. I wanted, wanted, wanted, as I had never wanted anything before. “Anything,” I gasped. “Everything.”

Mr. Wooster squeezed my waist and gave a little sighing chuckle, then pressed his lips to mine again.  One of my hands had been hanging limp at my side, and I used it to press him against me.  We kissed for what seemed like hours, and he pulled away, then firmly but tenderly took my hand. “Are you certain?” he asked, and I knew then that he understood that I had never done this before.  I made an inarticulate noise and pressed against him, helpless in the throes of these feelings.  “Perhaps not everything, then, ah whatsit,” he said thoughtfully, leading me to the bed.

We kissed again and Mr. Wooster began to carefully divest me of my clothing.  There was a solemnity to his actions, as if he, like I, could not really believe that we were doing this.  I saw his surprise at the small shabbinesses of wardrobe I worked hard to conceal, but in the extremity of my desire, I could not care. Those words erupted from me again as he passed his smooth, soft hand over my bare chest. “I love you.”

I was nearly undressed when we lost control of ourselves and collapsed in a sweating, thrusting tangle of limbs, desperately pulling off my trousers and underthings and rutting against each other like animals. The smell of our completion washed over me and I bent to join my lips to his again, careless of the effects of our actions on the bed linens. We nestled against each other and kissed until we grew aroused again and then, without seeming to dominate, Mr. Wooster guided me through a more gentle form of lovemaking. The feel of his hands on my intimate regions was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and he murmured endearments while I thrashed and moaned in his arms. The dawn was just breaking when I opened my eyes.  Mr. Wooster had fallen asleep across my body and we were covered only by his dressing gown.  Much as I wanted a wash, I felt a sense of protective tenderness toward him, and carefully attempted to cover him more completely, but he woke as soon as I moved.

“Reggie,” he smiled warmly and reached up to kiss my cheek. “That was simply topping.  Thank-you.”  I smiled, and he touched my lips. “I like that,” he said.  “Let’s have a wash and then…” he stopped and his mouth flapped open and he chuckled to himself.  I rose and would have taken up my discarded clothes, but he took my hand and led me into his bathroom and began running water.  Reflexively, I fell into our usual routine, but he took me by the waist and handed me a warm, damp towel. “Just scrub off a bit and then you can take the tub first.” He wrapped a towel about his waist.

The liberty was inexcusable in an employee. “I, sir,  I…” Mr. Wooster smiled warmly and kissed me again.

“No, no,  Reggie, don’t worry. I’ll just…” and then he chuckled again, and rested his head against my chest. I felt my hand cup the back of his head. I had not known he was aware of my name.

“Sir?”

“I keep forgetting, Reggie… I was going to ask Jeeves to make us some tea, but he’s a bit occupied for the nonce, what?” Looking back, I always wonder why I did not grow angry, and I suspect it was because he had never expected me to wait on himself and a lover.  “You look a bit gobsmacked, old bean.”

“Sir, I… you have never…”

He chuckled again. “No, I have never asked you to do that, have I?  I would… er, dash it, I well, Reggie, I never wanted to share everything I have with anyone the way I want to share it with you, now. You have no idea what last night meant to young Wooster.”  He turned and adjusted the taps and I felt my knees buckle.  “Oopsie-daisy, there, Reg.”  I felt him steer me to the small bench.

“Sir, I…”  he took my hand again, and my heart fluttered and he rubbed a small circle with his thumb. “I love you,” I gasped again.  He smiled warmly.

“So you said.” I rested my head against him and he stroked my hair. “That was your first time? Ah, whatsit?”  I nodded miserably, remembering too late how pleasing and compliant he was in general.  Perhaps he had only responded to my naked want. He sat on the edge of the tub. “No one else would have known, I dare say, Reggie.  It’s just that with me you’re usually so firm and masterful, and you rather let me direct proceedings.”

“I love you,” I said again. A sort of shame enveloped me.  I could not even frame a sensible sentence, but he was so very kind to me.  Mr. Wooster helped me into the bath and then settled himself in front of me and pulled my arms around him.

“That's better, what?  Let’s cancel my lunch at the club today,” he said.  “I think we need to speak of weighty matters as between men of intellect and whatnot.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, feeling equal parts foolish and absolutely delighted to have him naked in my arms.  He rested back against me and I nuzzled his hair, drinking in the smell of smoke and sex and bath salts.

“I should have asked. Did you, er, like it?” he asked.

“I have never liked anything more,” I said. 

“And have you thought through what we should do now?”

My mind went blank. “I love you.”

Mr. Wooster laughed and stood up, naked and dripping.  I had never seen a more beautiful sight.  “I didn’t think so.  Would you like to have another go then back to sleep?”

“You're beautiful.  I love you.” I said.

My young master took my hand and helped me up.  We dried each other off. He took my hand again and I followed him back to his bed where I then followed his kind and gentle guidance in matters of love.  Later, we would speak of more weighty matters, but for the moment, we were content to discover new ways to express our affection for each other.

 


End file.
